Get Lucky (Marcus/Katie, 1400 words)
Title: Get Lucky
Pairing: Katie/Marcus
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1400
Summary: Katie has a lucky charm that helps her win Quidditch matches.
Author's notes: Written for lady_green_bat in wizard-love. First posted here.
"I'm here with Katie Bell and Marcus Flint, teammates at Portree and two of the top young players leading England's team to the European Cup here in Prague this week. Tell me, what do you think the team's chances are in the tournament, Marcus?"
Marcus leaned back in his seat and met the reporter's eyes, holding her gaze until she looked away. He hated being interviewed by witches, because they always asked about his personal life, the one thing he didn't want to discuss. The best way to keep them off the topic was to flirt with them, make them think that they had some self-interest in keeping his bed out of the news. It was ridiculously easy.
"I think our chances are good this week," he said, answering the question only once the reporter was thoroughly thrown off, her cheeks flushing pink under his attention. "Bulgaria has an excellent squad, but our defense has been playing well. I predict a close match, but we should be able to pull through in the end."
The reporter nodded as her Quick-Quotes Quill danced across the parchment spread across the table. "And what about after the match, Katie? Anyone special waiting at home for you?"
Marcus bit back a smile at the thought that he'd managed to avoid the personal questions, and foisted them onto Bell. Let her be the one to deal with it, for a change. Still, he was curious as to what she'd say.
Out of the reporter's sight, Marcus pressed his knee against Katie's as she answered, but her voice was calm and controlled, damn her. "Playing in the League doesn't leave much time for romance, I'm afraid. The schedule is just entirely too demanding."
---
Marcus stepped into the small training room and shut the door. Though the room was far beneath the stands, he could already hear the thundering of thousands of feet as the crowd filed in, every one of them eager to watch him succeed or fail today. He felt the nervous quiver in his stomach ramp up to a shudder at the thought, and he began to pace across the tiny room, trying to work off some of his excess energy.
Where on earth was she?
Finally the door burst open and Bell ran inside, carrying her leather pads and protective gear.
Slamming the door behind her, Katie dropped her gear in a pile on the floor. "Game's about to start," she said. "We don't have much time. You ready to go?"
There's never enough time, Marcus thought, but didn't say. "I'm nervous as hell," he said instead. "Let's get this over with."
---
"I know Quidditch players can be a superstitious lot," the reporter said with a smile. "Do either of you have any special pre-game rituals you'll use to prepare for today's match?"
Katie gave a self-deprecating laugh and leaned forward, engaging with the reporter even as her hand slid up Marcus's thigh under the table. "I'm definitely one of those superstitious types that give all athletes a bad name," she said. "I prepare before every match in the same way, have done since I started playing with Portree a year ago."
"My readers are eager to know the details!" the reporter said breathlessly. "Will you share?"
"Well, I can't give away all my secrets," Katie said, with a wicked little smile. "But I always get a massage to keep my muscles loose, read through the day's playbook, and of course I need to have my lucky socks on before every match."
Of course you do, Marcus thought sarcastically to himself. Katie mentioned those lucky socks in every damn interview she gave. Since she had been named Rookie of the Year, that meant a lot of interviews.
The reporter laughed along with Katie this time. "Quidditch Monthly is very familiar with those lucky socks," she said. "Any chance we could get a photo of you wearing them?"
"Maybe one day," she said, making it sound almost true.
---
"Can I ask you a question?" Marcus asked, as he stripped out of his team jumper and unzipped his fly.
Katie pushed her trousers off and kicked them into the corner of the room, then hopped up on the massage table. "Anything," she said, leaning back with her legs spread. "Hurry up, though." She ran both hands down her body, cupping and caressing her own breasts before trailing her fingers down over her flat stomach and the curve of her hips.
Obstinately, Marcus took the time to toe off his boots and slide his pants and trousers off his legs. This could well be their last match of the tournament, especially if Bulgaria's Chasers were as good as everyone said they were, and then there would be three whole months of time off. Three months without matches meant Katie Bell wouldn't need her pre-game warmup.
He wanted to make sure he remembered this. It was going to be a long three months.
"Flint," Katie whined, slipping two fingers between her legs and rubbing her clit. "Come on, I need you for this."
Marcus's cock throbbed at the sight of her, laid out across the table completely naked, preparing herself for him. Somehow, he managed to hold himself back from rushing across the room and just diving into her, but it was a close thing.
"My question is..." he said, walking slowly over to her and standing between her knees. "Where are those lucky socks I've heard so much about? Why have I never seen them?"
Katie reached out and grabbed his erection with one hand, giving him a couple of rough strokes before guiding him to her entrance. She arched her back and moaned in pleasure as Marcus slipped inside.
"It's a secret," she said, as he began to thrust into her, bracing himself with one hand against the side of the table and pulling her close with the other.
"You can tell me," Marcus said, over the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. He leaned forward as she arched up and caught one of her hardened nipples between his lips.
"The secret is," she said, wrapping her legs around his waist and digging her heels into the small of his back. "Yeah, harder."
"The secret is?" he prompted, removing his mouth from her breast to talk.
"Don't stop, Flint, fuck."
Marcus grinned and bent back to his task.
"The secret is," Katie said, and Marcus could feel her legs beginning to shake, knew she was getting close. "I need this to win," she said, breath coming faster now. "You," she said.
Marcus pulled back and looked down at her face, thrown back in ecstasy, eyes closed and cheeks flushed with desire. Her blonde hair was damp with sweat, her neat braid mussed.
He had a suspicion, but he needed to know for sure. He needed to hear her say it. And knowing Katie Bell, she'd never say this to him without incentive. He had an advantage now, he was going to take it.
"What about the lucky socks?" he asked, as he worked one hand between their bodies.
"There aren't--" she said, gasping for breath as he pressed his thumb to her clit. "Any lucky socks, all right?" Her body was shaking now with each thrust, and Marcus could feel his own control slipping. "I don't need socks. I need-- I need--"
Words seemed to fail her then, as her internal muscles began to quake and quiver, and a moment later Marcus followed her over the edge.
"Bell?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her sweaty temple. "Are you saying that the lucky socks are my penis?"
Katie lay back on the table and gave him a satisfied smile. "Weren't we undefeated?" she asked. "I'd say it's working."
---
"What about you, Marcus?" the reporter asked. "Any pre-game rituals?"
Marcus shifted under the table, feeling his cock growing uncomfortably hard in his pants. Katie squeezed the inside of his thigh and withdrew her hand.
"Nope," he said. "I'm not the superstitious type, really. I just try to relax and find something to get my mind off the game."
Pairing: Katie/Marcus
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1400
Summary: Katie has a lucky charm that helps her win Quidditch matches.
Author's notes: Written for lady_green_bat in wizard-love. First posted here.
"I'm here with Katie Bell and Marcus Flint, teammates at Portree and two of the top young players leading England's team to the European Cup here in Prague this week. Tell me, what do you think the team's chances are in the tournament, Marcus?"
Marcus leaned back in his seat and met the reporter's eyes, holding her gaze until she looked away. He hated being interviewed by witches, because they always asked about his personal life, the one thing he didn't want to discuss. The best way to keep them off the topic was to flirt with them, make them think that they had some self-interest in keeping his bed out of the news. It was ridiculously easy.
"I think our chances are good this week," he said, answering the question only once the reporter was thoroughly thrown off, her cheeks flushing pink under his attention. "Bulgaria has an excellent squad, but our defense has been playing well. I predict a close match, but we should be able to pull through in the end."
The reporter nodded as her Quick-Quotes Quill danced across the parchment spread across the table. "And what about after the match, Katie? Anyone special waiting at home for you?"
Marcus bit back a smile at the thought that he'd managed to avoid the personal questions, and foisted them onto Bell. Let her be the one to deal with it, for a change. Still, he was curious as to what she'd say.
Out of the reporter's sight, Marcus pressed his knee against Katie's as she answered, but her voice was calm and controlled, damn her. "Playing in the League doesn't leave much time for romance, I'm afraid. The schedule is just entirely too demanding."
---
Marcus stepped into the small training room and shut the door. Though the room was far beneath the stands, he could already hear the thundering of thousands of feet as the crowd filed in, every one of them eager to watch him succeed or fail today. He felt the nervous quiver in his stomach ramp up to a shudder at the thought, and he began to pace across the tiny room, trying to work off some of his excess energy.
Where on earth was she?
Finally the door burst open and Bell ran inside, carrying her leather pads and protective gear.
Slamming the door behind her, Katie dropped her gear in a pile on the floor. "Game's about to start," she said. "We don't have much time. You ready to go?"
There's never enough time, Marcus thought, but didn't say. "I'm nervous as hell," he said instead. "Let's get this over with."
---
"I know Quidditch players can be a superstitious lot," the reporter said with a smile. "Do either of you have any special pre-game rituals you'll use to prepare for today's match?"
Katie gave a self-deprecating laugh and leaned forward, engaging with the reporter even as her hand slid up Marcus's thigh under the table. "I'm definitely one of those superstitious types that give all athletes a bad name," she said. "I prepare before every match in the same way, have done since I started playing with Portree a year ago."
"My readers are eager to know the details!" the reporter said breathlessly. "Will you share?"
"Well, I can't give away all my secrets," Katie said, with a wicked little smile. "But I always get a massage to keep my muscles loose, read through the day's playbook, and of course I need to have my lucky socks on before every match."
Of course you do, Marcus thought sarcastically to himself. Katie mentioned those lucky socks in every damn interview she gave. Since she had been named Rookie of the Year, that meant a lot of interviews.
The reporter laughed along with Katie this time. "Quidditch Monthly is very familiar with those lucky socks," she said. "Any chance we could get a photo of you wearing them?"
"Maybe one day," she said, making it sound almost true.
---
"Can I ask you a question?" Marcus asked, as he stripped out of his team jumper and unzipped his fly.
Katie pushed her trousers off and kicked them into the corner of the room, then hopped up on the massage table. "Anything," she said, leaning back with her legs spread. "Hurry up, though." She ran both hands down her body, cupping and caressing her own breasts before trailing her fingers down over her flat stomach and the curve of her hips.
Obstinately, Marcus took the time to toe off his boots and slide his pants and trousers off his legs. This could well be their last match of the tournament, especially if Bulgaria's Chasers were as good as everyone said they were, and then there would be three whole months of time off. Three months without matches meant Katie Bell wouldn't need her pre-game warmup.
He wanted to make sure he remembered this. It was going to be a long three months.
"Flint," Katie whined, slipping two fingers between her legs and rubbing her clit. "Come on, I need you for this."
Marcus's cock throbbed at the sight of her, laid out across the table completely naked, preparing herself for him. Somehow, he managed to hold himself back from rushing across the room and just diving into her, but it was a close thing.
"My question is..." he said, walking slowly over to her and standing between her knees. "Where are those lucky socks I've heard so much about? Why have I never seen them?"
Katie reached out and grabbed his erection with one hand, giving him a couple of rough strokes before guiding him to her entrance. She arched her back and moaned in pleasure as Marcus slipped inside.
"It's a secret," she said, as he began to thrust into her, bracing himself with one hand against the side of the table and pulling her close with the other.
"You can tell me," Marcus said, over the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. He leaned forward as she arched up and caught one of her hardened nipples between his lips.
"The secret is," she said, wrapping her legs around his waist and digging her heels into the small of his back. "Yeah, harder."
"The secret is?" he prompted, removing his mouth from her breast to talk.
"Don't stop, Flint, fuck."
Marcus grinned and bent back to his task.
"The secret is," Katie said, and Marcus could feel her legs beginning to shake, knew she was getting close. "I need this to win," she said, breath coming faster now. "You," she said.
Marcus pulled back and looked down at her face, thrown back in ecstasy, eyes closed and cheeks flushed with desire. Her blonde hair was damp with sweat, her neat braid mussed.
He had a suspicion, but he needed to know for sure. He needed to hear her say it. And knowing Katie Bell, she'd never say this to him without incentive. He had an advantage now, he was going to take it.
"What about the lucky socks?" he asked, as he worked one hand between their bodies.
"There aren't--" she said, gasping for breath as he pressed his thumb to her clit. "Any lucky socks, all right?" Her body was shaking now with each thrust, and Marcus could feel his own control slipping. "I don't need socks. I need-- I need--"
Words seemed to fail her then, as her internal muscles began to quake and quiver, and a moment later Marcus followed her over the edge.
"Bell?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her sweaty temple. "Are you saying that the lucky socks are my penis?"
Katie lay back on the table and gave him a satisfied smile. "Weren't we undefeated?" she asked. "I'd say it's working."
---
"What about you, Marcus?" the reporter asked. "Any pre-game rituals?"
Marcus shifted under the table, feeling his cock growing uncomfortably hard in his pants. Katie squeezed the inside of his thigh and withdrew her hand.
"Nope," he said. "I'm not the superstitious type, really. I just try to relax and find something to get my mind off the game."